


It's Cause He Cares

by ScullyLovesQueequeg



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Cancer Arc, Complete, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-19
Updated: 2014-09-19
Packaged: 2018-03-11 11:10:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3325340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScullyLovesQueequeg/pseuds/ScullyLovesQueequeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The prompt was, "A character reads a book that keeps them up at night - and they reach out to someone for help in making sense of their fears/anxieties regarding what they’ve read."</p><p>Mulder tries to talk to Scully about her cancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Cause He Cares

She didn’t notice anything was really ‘wrong’ with him, because Mulder always came in suffering from a mild form of sleep deprivation. He never slept a full night—usually it was only 3 - 5 hours when he was on his couch. On a case, he’d sleep more if they had the chance to, but if the case was particularly personal, Mulder could go for days without sleeping.

She was different though. She was able to compartmentalize the cases and the amount of damage to her psyche was contained, usually. When they closed a case, or at least moved on, her mind put the metaphorical lid on the box and it was sent off to be considered at another time. She didn’t think Mulder could do that though. It wasn’t that she didn’t think him capable, but rather that he wouldn’t allow himself to forget. She had her theories as to why, but the one that seemed most like him, she thought, was that he did not want the victims to suffer the same fate as his sister Samantha had: to be forgotten and only remembered after a long period of time.

But today, there was something off about the way he was behaving. Despite his sleep deprivation, Mulder was usually near the top of his peak performance, delegating smaller, more dexterous tasks to her while he settled for the bigger picture. Today, he mumbled his greeting as he shuffled into the office and sat behind his desk, hands on his head.

"Mulder, aren’t you forgetting something?" She asked him, and he glanced up, giving her a troubled look. He looked anxious, and tentatively, he asked,

"What am I forgetting?"

"Well, the case. Usually you tell me what the case we’ll be on today is, then is go home and pack, and then of course we go to the site in question. So, where are we going today?"

"We aren’t going anywhere today. I just—I just have files to organize and a report to write. I’m sorry. You can help me if you want, I guess." He didn’t look at her when she spoke, and she could immediately sense something was not right between them.

"Why were you late?" She asked, folding her arms over chest and leaning on the side of the chair haphazardly. He glanced up at her again, but avoided eye contact. The way his eyes avoided hers made her fear the worst.

"Oh, I just didn’t see the time, I guess. I’m sorry. Is Skinner upset?" Mulder asked, and now she knew something is wrong. He never particularly cared what Skinner thought, and had a tendency to avoid his boss like the plague, especially after the incident in which Mulder was wrongfully accused of something Skinner framed him for.

"No, Mulder, he doesn’t know you came late. Are you feeling okay?" The question was put forth plainly, and she could almost see the gears in his head turning before he answered,

"Y-yeah, I’m fine," But the pause was too long, as though he had been struggling with the truth. "Just couldn’t really sleep."

The admission, she could tell, was meant to calm her and reassure her that this was normal of Mulder, but he came in looking worse for the wear, and she considered telling him to go home. But that would never work because Mulder would merely protest, and she’d be wasting her time. So she leaned on the corner of the desk and turned partway so she was facing him, with her arms folded over her chest.

"Is there any particular reason why?" She knew better than to ask, Mulder would lie.

_No, no reason. Nothing for you to worry about, Scully. I’m fine, really._

"Well, I guess you’ve gotta live with it, but I’ve been reading in my spare time, at home…" Mulder admitted, sitting up taller, and letting his eyes fall on the picture of his sister he had on his desk. Next to the picture, there was a Polaroid of him and Scully at a crime scene—Mulder was telling a joke, and Scully was laughing. It was taken years ago, when Scully was still new to the office. It was even dated a couple weeks after they’d started working together.

"What about?" Her tone had softened, obviously surprised he was actually going to humor her, and she moved from where she had been leaning on the desk to stand right beside him.

"About—about your cancer." His eyes had not left the photo while he spoke, but in the silence that followed his admission, he could not determine how she had taken this news without a visual clue and so he glanced over at her. Her expression was worried, though more sympathy than anger.

"Why?" Her question was a soft spoken one, that sounded almost like a plea, and the desperation and confusion in it was almost visible.

"Because, Scully… I refuse to give up on you. I’m—I don’t want to lose you. You’re the best thing that has happened to me in a while—no, I really mean that," He said, addressing the dismissive smile that started to form on her pale features. "I know we don’t always see eye to eye, and you have your science, and I have my passion but… you regard me—and my work—with so much respect, and—I don’t know, I can’t stand to sit idle while you’re wasting away. Admittedly, I don’t really understand medical texts. I’m not much of a doctor, but I’ve been working—"

"Mulder, please…"

"Look Scully, I know you don’t want me to interfere—I respect that, really, I do but even if there was a chance you could be cured of this, you still wouldn’t let me help you?" Now he was fully facing her.

"Mulder this isn’t your burden!" The shout scared her, because she was not angry; she was hurt. She had not wanted Mulder to deal with an issue that she was taking care of. She did not want to cause any additional stress to him, and she realized that the desire to shut him out came from a genuine place of concern for his well being.

"Is that what you think this is? Is that what you think that I see you as? A burden to be carried around?" His tone held indignation in spades, and that surprised her because she had always thought that Mulder  _had_  viewed her as a burden.

"Then what, Mulder? If I’m not a burden, what am I?" 

There was a long pause in which Mulder considered all the words he could have used to describe how he felt towards her. Scully’s eyes scanned his features as he thought about what he wanted to say. She had faith that they were not the colorful kind; nothing that he couldn’t tell her to her face and expect to be slapped for… but even so….

"First and foremost, you’re my friend. You’re also my partner. You believed me when no one else did, and… and…" Words failed him. There was no phrase to describe the amount of vexation and elation she brought simultaneously. Love came to mind, twice actually, but love was a concept that he did not understand beyond bedding someone for a night and then some; that was not how Mulder felt about Scully.

"And?" Her voice cut across his buzzing thoughts and silenced them.

"And I’m worried about your health. I’m afraid… I’m afraid because of the things I’ve read about cancer in general. I’m afraid because I think that you’re already showing some signs but you’re afraid to tell me, I guess because you don’t want me to feel bad…"

"Mulder this is personal—"

"No. This goes beyond you. If this is caused by your abduction then it’s just as much my fault as it is the people who’ve given this disease to you. You owe it to yourself to find out why this happened to you, and I owe it to you to do something to correct this injustice. I can’t do that if you won’t let me in, Scully." The conviction in his voice sent a chill up her spine, and she was unable to look at him anymore. She wanted to escape and hide from him, his gaze, and his concern—no, pity. That’s how she viewed it as. 

There was a pregnant pause, before she put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it.

"Mulder, I’m asking you, not as your partner, but as your friend: let this go. I don’t want to be your personal cause. I have a disease—an illness, yes, but this was caused by an abnormality. You didn’t do anything. I will continue to fight—I don’t want to give up on you, on myself, on everyone but I need you to respect my space. I have always respected yours in regard to your sister."

He sighed, heavily, enough to disturb the papers on his desk, but he nodded. He would not verbally bring up the issue again, but he wouldn’t stop looking. He owed her that much. Her hand lingered on his shoulder, but moved when the phone rang. She answered it, and with a frown, looked over at her partner.

"Yeah, he’s here. I’ll tell him to go upstairs," She said, and she hung up. Mulder glanced over, the despair that’d been prevalent on his features settling back to indifference. "Skinner wants you upstairs. I’m guessing he’s going to give you something." A silence fell over them, but he got up slowly, to do what he was asked to. He edged past her and made it to the door, before he paused.

"I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries." There was a pause, as though he were contemplating on saying more, but he continued to walk out of the office. When he was gone, Scully let out a shaky, nervous sigh, and sank into the seat he had recently vacated.


End file.
